Everything Changes
by Chris Dean
Summary: But this time the wound is too deep, mentally and physically. Maybe if I hadn’t told him, maybe if I’d kept it bottled up, like I had for 4 years I wouldn’t be here now. And maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much.


**Everything Changes by Chris Dean**

**Chapter One: **Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Winx Club, Yu-Gi-Oh or Sailor Moon, OC's are owned by respective creators!

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I can't stop it now, I can't, I don't want to, not anymore, its too painful. I watch it slowly drip off my fingertips. _Drip...drip...drip..._ staining my hands, tainting them red. Why did I do it? I don't know, a multitude of things I guess. I can't think anymore.

Mokuba will be alright, of course he will, he doesn't need me anymore, he's his own man. Is that a reason? I don't know, maybe. The feeling of uselessness eats at me daily, an ache that can't be cured. It hurt more than anything, when he left. I put on a brave face, like a brother should. I should have been happy for him. He had his own life and he was going to live it to the fullest. He drove away, leaving a gaping wound in my life. But none of that matters now, there isn't much time. He'll be fine, yes.

A bitter laugh escapes me, quietened, but then louder. Why should I be quiet? I'm on my own, just like always, and even if there is someone, a cleaner maybe, it's too late. Maybe this is a mistake, no, I can't think like that, it didn't stop me the first time, but it did the second.

But this time the wound is too deep, mentally and physically. Maybe if I hadn't told him, maybe if I'd kept it bottled up, like I had for 4 years I wouldn't be here now. And maybe it wouldn't hurt so much.

'I love you' Hah, three seemingly harmless words can do so much damage. Will he miss me? No, I don't think so, after all who will miss a scheming, cynical bastard? No one, exactly. What's the point? It's not like I'm doing anything for this planet anyway, it's not like anyone depends on me. How sad my life is...

I left a note; of course, it would be unfair if I hadn't. Just a simple letter, addressed to my brother, the only one I trust-

Dear Mokie,

I'm sorry. That's all I can say now. I'm sorry, forgive me, and don't blame yourself. You got me this far at least, but it's too much now. KaibaCorp is yours if you want it, but I understand if you don't. Please don't hate me.  
Live your own life now, for yourself. You've grown so much right before my eyes and I only wish I'd been there for you more. I was never the brother you deserved; you should have had so much more.

I'll see you again, I promise, I'll be waiting.

I'm sorry.

Seto

Who would have guessed, the great Seto Kaiba apologising. I cried when I wrote this, I'd never bothered with writing before, but doing it made it so much more real. I had to do it then. I'd written the note, I couldn't back down anymore.

And here I am, sitting against the wall, unable to even hold my head up. My body is heavy, like there's lead in my veins, but of course the contents of my veins are slowly seeping across the floor, soaking into the boards. If you could see me now you'd think I'm already dead. Before I fell I was staring at myself in the mirror. I was 22 and lonely.

I hadn't looked when the blade bit into my skin, I couldn't. Call me weak, if you will. I know I am, I'm reminded everyday. But I could have ended it quickly, there's a gun under my bed, pills in the cabinet, but this seemed more fitting, somehow. I wanted to watch my life ebb away, just as I'd watched it flash before my eyes.

As time drew on and the slow drip of blood on the floor increased the person in the mirror grew paler and paler, dark rings appearing under their eyes until soon it was no longer Seto Kaiba peering out, it was just a wraith. The wraith inside.

Eventually my legs grew weak, a faint tingling feeling and I collapsed, barely aware I was doing so. That was a few minutes ago, it was at that point the first time round that someone walked in. I was so close, so close, but not close enough.

Mokuba had insisted I go on medication, he was so worried. I obliged at first, but after a month or so I found myself becoming dependant and I stopped. I wasn't going to become an eighteen-year-old druggie.

The second time was merely a year later. I'd panicked before I could stop myself and cried out, weakly, but loud enough to demand attention. I went on pills again and began having regular panic attacks. That was my lowest moment. Mokuba had a breakdown. He thought it was his fault and that hurt so much.

I tried to pick up my life, if only for him. And I succeeded, for him I picked up the broken shards of my life and put them back together. If only for a little while.

But now, the third and final time. Nothing can save me now. There is only one scar on me that matters, one that I shall carry forever. Why didn't he understand, he could have let me down gently, could have explained. But he didn't, he slammed the door in my face. Couldn't he see how difficult it had been to admit it? Obviously not. The sharp sound of the thick oak hitting the doorframe seemed to signal to shattering of my mind for the last time.

The last time.

This is it, I can hear my own deathly slow heartbeat in my ears. I can't see anymore, or hear, or feel anything, I'm beyond that now. It's so cold, though. I hope a servant finds me, please God don't let Mokuba see me like this. Well it's too late now...too late.

Too late...

Forgive me...

I'm sorry.

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